What is charm, anyway? My battered and dog-eared paperback Webster`s (an element of high-touch charm plopped atop my high-tech word processor) defines it as a magic spell or something irresistibly attractive. Judging by the classified ads, however, real estate agents have their own definitions of charm and its derivations. In fact, the ``real charmer`` you drive out to see may turn out to be the salesperson, not the house, but because the word conjured up certain images you had to make the trip.

If charm is a buzzword, it is also a compelling concept. We all seem to crave charm in our homes. To be told you have a charming home is a supreme compliment. It means, after all, that someone else has found your house attractive, hospitable, comfortable, maybe even cozy.

But charm comes in small doses, too, often in the form of antiques and collectibles. The trouble is, some people confuse quality with quantity, figuring that if one spongware pitcher is charming, 30 sponeware pitchers (or baskets or cuckoo clocks or patchwork quilts) will be 30 times as charming. But charm doesn`t work that way. At some point, as the law of diminishing returns begins to kick in, another basket added to the collection is just another basket and means more clutter, not more charm.

It`s in the mix

You see, charm is less a function of volume than variety. It comes from the mix of objects and materials, some of which-such as fireplaces, French doors, camelback sofas and chintz fabric-are symbolic. They`re considered charming because they`re instantly recognizable and friendly looking. They bring the past into the present and give us a feeling of history and heritage. But variety in furnishings alone does not automatically produce a charming home. If it did, there would be a foolproof formula for it, a magic master mix of individually charming objects that when blended together yield charm. In truth, charm is something that defies standardization. It`s something you can`t work too hard to achieve. Charm happens when people put their imprint on the home they live in, when their personalities coat the things they live with and color the rooms they live in, regardless of prevailing trends and fashion whims. It really is a kind of mesmerizing spell that pervades some homes.

Charm comes through when a home is allowed to evolve and mature and adapt to meet the changing needs of those who live in it and to reflect their passions and priorities through a diverse collection of objects, elements and materials.

More than a look, charm is an attitude. It`s an approach to furnishing and decorating that isn`t forced or contrived or imitative. It comes from a willingness to invest time and emotional energy, to go slowly, to build layer on layer, to add and subtract and shuffle things around, to mix old, not-so-old and antique with new and almost new, the precious with the everyday, the hand-me-downs with the haute.

In my own little house, for example, there`s charm in the erratic flagstone stairway leading up from the street to the front door. It weaves and staggers its way up the hill and looks as if it were installed by a drunken mason-and may have been, for all I know. There`s also charm in a small collection of toy steam shovels from the `40s and `50s that lines the top shelf of the living room bookcase, in a worn steerhide rug in front of the fireplace, in a bull`s-eye window, blousy slipcovered chairs and an antique bentwood hatrack used as a towel bar in the bathroom.

I have friends who have charming homes, too. But they bear no resemblance whatsoever to my house or my version of domestic charm. But then that`s the nature of charm: delight brought about by a purely personal blend of objects and materials lovingly assembled and treasured.

Charm comes from simple pleasures and sensible priorities. A house that welcomes you home, lets you rest and recharge, protects you, caters to you and coddles you is a home where charm lives. -